


Winter Raven

by ErinNox_Writes



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blind Character, Fantasy, M/M, Swords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28781169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinNox_Writes/pseuds/ErinNox_Writes
Summary: Three teenagers, Fay, Ashton, and Rosemary, brought together by a prophecy, work to take down the tyrannical empress of the nation they live in. They discover secrets, fight corruption, and do other average teenager things as they try to find the long-lost Child of the former royal family, destined to save them all.~The first few chapters of my work-in-progress, a very gay fantasy book about kids saving the world.
Kudos: 1





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the preview of Winter Raven, the book I am currently writing! This is a project I have been working on off and on since 2017. Though the preview is short, the idea is vast, and one day I hope to publish this as a full, printed book. Hope you enjoy!

The boy skidded to a halt on the marble floors, his eyes wide and breath heavy as if hell itself had been on his tail only moments ago. He took a moment to bring his erratic pulse back to its normal, steady pace. When he was calm again, he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his coat, taking a careful step into the hallway before him.

Every move he made he did with extreme caution, deliberately keeping his speed to a slow creep. He couldn’t let anyone know he was here. Of course, he’d been here before, but it was a dangerous task infiltrating the most heavily-guarded structure in the empire. Unlike him, the people working here actually cared for the monarch’s safety. Not that he’d come here to kill her; he didn’t have the strength to take on the wrath of an entire vengeful army. He came here for something else: information.

As he walked, he kept glancing behind him. There was no way of knowing whether the guards he’d just seen would come down this hallway, and he needed to be ready to duck out of sight in case they did. In all his years, which were filled with many perilous and precarious situations, this was one of the riskiest things he’d ever done. But then again, he liked to live life on the edge.

The hallways themselves were wide, long, and solid, polished marble: a true testament to the wealth of the land. The walls were covered in floor-to-ceiling windows, each pane colored with whatever salts lay at the bottom of the Silver River. It was mid-afternoon, so the sun streaming through the glass came in at an angle just low enough that it didn’t hit the boy’s eyes. The light, tinted pink and blue and purple by the windows, painted the white floors and walls in pastel hues. It was a strangely peaceful sight for all the apprehension he was feeling.

He reached the end of the hallway and stopped. In front of him was a pair of wooden double doors. It was a darker wood, contrasting interestingly with the walls. It, like everything around it, was perfectly polished and relieved of any imperfections. The handles were shaped into rings bigger than his head. He placed his hands on the cool iron, jerking his body back and taking the doors with him. Quietly as he could when dealing with an echoey hallway, he slipped inside the room, shutting the doors behind him.

The room was empty, but that was to be expected. The only thing that stood in the space, save for some satin curtains, was a pedestal in the center of the room, upon which sat a throne of sapphire. He stepped forward, admiring its beauty. According to the history books he’d read, there used to be two of these. He briefly wondered where they’d been storing the other one all these years.

However, his thought process was interrupted by noises from outside the door. He dashed to the side, sliding behind one of the curtains. He forced himself to still, and just in time, too, as the moment he stopped, the doors were thrown open.

The first thing he heard was the sound of heels clicking against the floor. After it were four other pairs of footsteps, and judging by the sound patterns, it was two guards, the royal advisor, and someone else. As he stood there, watching through the thin fabric of the curtain, he felt his blood boiling. Seeing her and her advisor, the two people he hated most in the world, in one room, he had the sudden urge to attack. But he held himself back, as he had done all his life.

The empress was at the head of the company, the glass laurel that symbolized her position seated on her brown curls. Her advisor stood beside her, his hands crossed behind his back. The empress stepped onto the pedestal and took a seat on her throne, and her advisor went to stand by her right side. It was then that the boy saw who the unfamiliar footsteps belonged to.

One of the castle elders stepped forward, wringing his hands nervously. He was dressed in a simple maroon robe, as all the elders did, and he kept glancing around, as if he was waiting for something to jump out at him. As he approached the empress, he wiped his palms on his robe, and the boy could only wonder how sweaty they were.

“You wanted to speak with me, Roelin?” the empress spoke, her voice commanding control of the room in a way that was subtle, yet persistent.

“Y-Yes, m’lady,” said the man. “The other elders and I, we’ve discovered something we believe you’ll want to hear. I-It’s a prophecy, Your Majesty!” His words quickened as her eyes narrowed. “A prophecy…concerning you.”

The royal advisor scoffed. “A prophecy?” he said. “Your Highness, this is ridiculous. Prophecies are utterly—”

The empress silenced him by raising her hand. “Don’t interrupt, Airleas.” She eyes the elder. “Tell me this prophecy.”

Clearing his throat, Roelin straightened his back, preparing to speak. When he did open his mouth, something about him changed: he no longer stood as a weak obedient servant, and his voice gained confidence he didn’t previously have. He began:

_The Child of Eira, brave and sound_

_Her twin allies found in the heart of the Ruby Crown_

_Shall expel the lying snake from the throne of her family renowned_

_And live to see the Empire built from new ground_

As soon as the last word was uttered, the air of confidence that surrounded the elder faded away, and the boy blinked. He hadn’t realized how intensely he’d been staring until it was over. He leaned back against the wall, in shock from the revelation that came with the prophecy.

The empress was going to be taken down. _Expelled_ from the throne. The Eiras still lived, in the form of this girl. With her, he finally had a way to abolish the empress’ rule. All he had to do was find this girl and her allies. He glanced quickly at the throne, remembering his current danger. Before he could find her, however, he needed to get out of the castle.

He caught back in on the conversation. The elder had left the room, and now the empress and her advisor were arguing about the prophecy. He was glaring as if that would get his point across, while she stared at the door in front of her.

“I don’t think this is wise,” Airleas was saying. “These prophecies are just meaningless words. The Eira family relied on them, and look where that got them. They didn’t even put up a fight! If you follow in their footsteps, you will become _weak_ , Ivory.”

“You would rather me risk my life, Airleas? My throne?” The empress stood, shooting a look of malice at her advisor. “If this Child _does_ exist, I have to find her before she does any damage.” She stepped down from the pedestal, her stomps echoing throughout the room. “I have given these people more than the Eiras ever did. I won’t let that family take anything else from me.”

The boy took a deep breath. He needed to get out of here, and he didn’t see any other options. He didn’t know how long they would stay here, and he needed to start searching for this girl as soon as possible. Placing his hand on the hilt of his sword, he took a deep breath, then jumped out from behind the curtain.

At first, the looks on the empress’ and advisor’s faces were ones of shock. Then hers turned to rage. “ _You_ ,” she sneered, and the word rang around the room.

“Yeah,” he responded, swallowing. “Me.”

The empress whipped around to face the door. “Guards! Seize him!’

“That’s my cue.” The boy turned, running towards the back of the room. Luckily, there was a door back there, as well, which he yanked open, racing down the hallway. He could hear the clanking of the guards’ armor and their cries for him to halt behind him. As he ran, he began to think of escape routes. He could always jump out a window, but he was so high up in the tower-shaped structure that he’d either die on impact or be left with several broken bones. He could try running down the twenty-six flights of stairs in order to get to the entrance of the castle, but he’d be running right into even more guards and straight to his doom. There was the option of trying to talk his way out of arrest, but he’d never been any good with words. He’d end up insulting them and getting himself executed right then and there. Besides that, he couldn’t think of any other way to get out of the building. The window option was starting to look pretty enticing.

He sighed. Of _course_ he’d end up jumping out a window. He looked up, seeing that the hallway was coming to an end. There was a window in front of him, a decorative vase placed in front of it. It was coming closer with every passing second. He had to make a decision now, before it was too late.

When the window reached his face, he jumped, drawing his sword. He threw a hand over his face as his sword and body hit the glass, the force of it shattering the window. He began to fall, slowly gaining speed as the ground raced up towards him. In a moment of quick thinking, he turned, stabbing his blade into the wall. Surprisingly, it stuck, caught on the jagged walls of the building, and he stopped falling abruptly.

He took a moment to regain his breath, looking up at the window he broke. The two guards were leaning out, their faces just specks in the distance. He began to chuckle softly, then threw his head back and laughed.

“Nice to make your acquaintance!” he called up to them.

Then he yanked his sword out of the wall, falling gracefully to the streets below.


	2. Chapter One - Rosemary

Let me get one thing straight: I love mornings.

It’s the best time to meditate. The sun hasn’t come out yet, so I’m not melting in the summer heat, but I’m not freezing or being eaten alive by the nighttime bugs, either. It’s the time of day where no one is really up yet, so it feels like I have the world to myself. Everything is quiet, and I can feel the light breeze that’s bristling the trees blowing the tips of my hair back and forth. My head is clear, and the whole earth feels confined to this one glade. I’m at peace, and a part of me wishes things could be this way forever. It almost feels as if they will, considering my daily routine doesn’t ever waver, and I get to do this every morning. Endless peace, for as long as I’m here.

Until…

“ROSE!”

I groan. Of course.

“ROSE! Where are you?”

When I open my eyes, the scenery is the same as before I closed them, save for the shift in daylight, but now there’s a loud noise cutting through the quiet.

It’s my brother, obviously. And if he’s up this early, it means our dad put him up to something. I stand up, turning around to see him stumbling his way down the path. For someone who’s spent his whole life on this estate, he still trips over roots and sticks. I guess he does have an excuse, but he’s memorized every other path by now.

“I’m right here, Ash,” I say, letting my annoyance creep into my voice. He jumps, turning around to face me.

His hands go to his sides, clenching and unclenching into fists. It’s something he does when he’s nervous, or when someone teases him. “Well  _ sorry _ , you know I can’t see you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. What do you want?” Honestly, he better have a good reason for interrupting me. Both him and our father know that the morning is my alone time, so this must be something really important.

“Dad wants you.” He looks through me as I sigh. “He didn’t say why. I  _ tried _ to tell him that you would be mad, but, y’know…” He shrugs dismissively, “He doesn’t listen to me.”

He’s not wrong. I bite my lip, stepping forward. “Okay. Um, you good to head back by yourself?” I stop as I pass him, but he just rolls his eyes.

“I’m not two years old, Rose.” He crosses his arms. “I can walk on my own.”

I can’t help the grin that crosses my face. “Oh, really? Because I literally just watched you trip over three different tree roots.”

“Well, I’d like to see you try the same thing while blind!” He smiles, too. I let out a laugh, going to walk away, but I’m stopped by his voice again. “Rose?”

He doesn’t look at me when I turn around, but I can picture his expression: unsmiling, his eyes pointed at the ground. “M’sorry for snapping at you.”

There it is: a classic Ashton comment. He feels so sorry for everything, even things he didn’t do. It’s mostly our dad’s fault, being the one person in our family who hates his blindness and belittles him for it, but I’ve done what I could throughout our lives to overrule our father’s less-than-constructive words. “Are you kidding?  _ I’m  _ the one that snapped at you.  _ I _ should be sorry.” And I am. I put my hand on his shoulder, and he gives me a smile. I hesitate for a moment, wondering whether I should drag him back with me, but in the end, I take my hand back and start walking away. He needs some alone time.

It’s not a very long walk back to the manor house, despite the walk through the village. Our father doesn’t let us go too far past the treeline, concerned that we’ll get lost, or worse: stumble out into the barren wasteland that is the world. We’re the last people left in Edren who haven’t lost their lives or their sanity. Our father tells us stories of what the world was like before the Plague racked the land, causing everyone to turn into mindless [zombies]. Well, almost everyone. My dad escaped, being an experienced scientist who knew what to do in the face of an epidemic, and wandered into these woods, which no one had entered before because they thought it was haunted. He found my mom, Syerena, here, at the estate Aedon, and considering they — and the workers who lived in the estate’s village — were the last people on the continent, they decided to repopulate. That’s when they had Ashton and me.

It’s a complicated story, and my dad can explain it better than I can, but it’s the basis of my entire existence. It’s why we’re not allowed to go far past the clearing that our house occupies. Dad doesn’t want us accidentally ending up outside the forest, where gods-know-what monsters are running around, diseased and dangerous.

I mean, I’m not saying I would actually  _ go _ out of the woods, but wouldn’t it be fun to see? My dad hasn’t been out there in sixteen years, so he doesn’t know what’s happened. Everything could be better, or everything could be worse. But he doesn’t  _ know _ , and that’s the exciting part. I would love to be able to see everything he’s talking about, even if it is dangerous. Danger just makes it more fun.

There’s not much you can do when you’re cooped up in the same house all your life.

Aedon comes into view (no idea who named it, but all self-respecting manors have names), and it’s the same sight it always is. It’s three stories of wood, stone, and memories sitting on top of a hill overlooking the village and the river that runs through it. The doors, standing ten feet tall each, are wide open, allowing easier access to the foreroom. There are four towers on each corner, rounded and flat so someone can stand up there and look down on everything below. Several small windows are strung across the different floors, covering the front. In a way, it looks more like a castle than a manor, especially with the towers on each corner. They look like the ones on the covers of my books. A castle is cooler than a manor, anyway. More regal.

As I reach the entrance, I place my hand on the side of the door, a habit of mine from when Ashton was growing up. He had trouble walking, so Mom made him use the walls to help him get around. I joined him to help him out, and I’ve kept the habit. I could probably make my way around this place with my eyes closed, and I know Ash can.

The foreroom is open all the way up to the top ceiling, and the walls are lined with open hallways that lead to the other floors. I head up the stairs to the third floor, where I know my father’s study is. The door is closed when I get there, the crest of our family carved into the door. It’s not my father’s, he just adopted it when he married my mom. Taking a deep breath, I knock three times.

“Come in,” calls a voice behind the door. So I do.

He’s sitting at the desk, trifling through papers. I step closer, closing the door behind me. His eyes are narrowed at what’s in front of him, but that’s to be expected. He looks more like Ashton than me: blonde hair, fair skin, and grey eyes. Granted, Ash’s everything is much lighter, but they’re still a lot similar to each other than to me. His hair is slicked back with a gel he invented himself, and his face is perfectly clean-shaven. There’s a small plaque sitting at the front of his desk reading “ _ Alastair Lockwood _ ”. It’s really only for him, we all know his name, but everytime our mom’s brought it up, he’s defended himself heavily. So she let it drop.

“Rosemary,” he says, looking up at me, “come. Sit.” He gestures to the chair in front of his desk, and I sit. He stacks his papers, placing them down. Finally, he focuses his eyes on me, and he offers me a smile.

“Ash said you wanted to see me?” I say, placing my hands in my lap. There’s still pollen and grass on my pants. I pick off a thread of a leaf that’s stuck to my knee.

“Yes. I want to speak to you about something important.”

I raise an eyebrow.

He leans forward, bringing his hands together. “I won’t sugarcoat it. Your mother and I, we are not long for this world. We won’t be around for much longer, and when we’re gone,  _ you _ will receive control of the estate. You need to be prepared to run this place the way I have.”

It takes a moment to process. I blink several times before my eyes widen. “Wait,  _ what? _ ” 

My father takes a deep breath. “I’m discussing inheritance with you, Rosemary.”

“But  _ why? _ And what do you mean, you’re not long for this world? You’re—How do you know? You’re in your thirties! And what about Ashton? Wouldn’t he also get something?” I’m not sure which of us was technically born first, but we’re twins, so we should get equal inheritance, right? Even if that wasn’t true, why would it matter right now? I understand the importance of heirs, as someone has to take charge of the people living here when the owners pass on, but why  _ now? _ Why at a time where both our mom and dad are alive and well?

“I’m merely preparing you, Rosemary. You never know when something terrible could happen. The world is dangerous, even here in the forest. When I’m gone, you’ll need to know how to take control before somebody else does.”

I’m sorry, what? “Wait, are you worried about Arabella and the others taking control from you?” Arabella is the main cook in Aedon, and she’s the most creative chef I’ve ever heard of. She’s done all she can to make each meal different from the last, even with her limited materials. She’s one of the workers (what my father calls ‘servants’) who lives on the first floor of the castle, having spent her whole life here, like me. She’s a few years older than me, but she’s my best friend besides Ashton.

My father doesn’t answer, and my suspicions are confirmed. “Are you serious?” I say. “Just because they work for you doesn’t mean they’re going to overthrow you! They’ve sworn  _ fealty _ to this family! They have no reason to start an uprising! That’s how this works! If  _ you _ treated them a little better, maybe you wouldn’t be so paranoid!”

“They are servants! They are beneath us! I’ve already given them plenty. They have houses and fields, they get to keep more than enough of their crops, and they’re not slaves. What more do they want? Also,” he sticks his finger up before I can speak, “they need to be reminded of their place. People are greedy, Rosemary. They will take whatever they want and do whatever they can in order to get higher. If you do not step up, they  _ will _ take the estate from you, and then  _ you’ll _ be the one scrubbing the floors! This is why I’m talking to you now. You need to be prepared to show authority.”

When he finishes, his face relaxes back into its impassive state, as if the argument is over, but I’m not finished. I sit up, ready to counter him: “But—”

A shout from downstairs cuts me off. My father’s on his feet before I can blink, and I’m up right after him.

We run out of the office, heading towards the stairs. Over the balcony, I see commotion outside the doors, but I can’t tell who’s involved or what’s happening. As we reach the ground floor, I see Ash in the corner, having just walked into the house. He turns around to face the sound, slowly backing up. I catch his arm and pull him close to me and Dad.

Two men who I recognize as stable hands trudge through the doors, struggling to drag a boy in all black with them. Another stablehand comes up behind them, a sword scabbard in her hands. She runs up to my father, handing him the weapon.

“Lord Alastair,” she says. “We found him sleeping in the stables, sir. No one recognizes him. He was carrying this.”

My dad draws the sword, studying it carefully. The grey blade is inscribed with runes I don’t recognize, and there’s a chip near the tip end of the blade. The hilt is black, the handle wrapped in leather, and the pommel is shaped like a claw. It’s a beautiful weapon, but I’ve never seen it before. It or the boy.

Without a word, Dad sheathes the sword and steps closer to the boy. The stablehands have forced him onto his knees, but he doesn’t look very happy about it. As my father steps closer, he spits on the ground, glaring.

“Where did you come from?” my dad asks.

“The woods,” says the boy. He grins with fake innocence, and Ashton stifles a laugh beside me.

“ _ Outside _ the woods?” If his face is anything to go by, my father is not amused.

“Where else do you think? Nobody lives in these woods, except you freaks, apparently. Seriously, waking a guy up from his nap just to drag him to the head of the house? I’ve been in dungeons that are nicer than this.”

Dungeons? But where would there be dungeons? Or people to man them? I look to my father’s face for a reaction. His countenance is stony as always, but his eyes are burrowing into the boy’s, searching for answers. I can’t tell if he’s more angry or more worried.

“How did you find this place?” he asks.

“I just walked until I found it. A good thing, too; I was  _ this close _ to giving up and turning back. Go look for the twins somewhere else.”

“Twins?” I say before I can stop myself. “Why are you looking for twins?”

He turns to me. His blood-red eyes twinkle, and he grins. “I guess you two are them? Cool, less work for me. Though you and your brother don’t look all that similar, if you ask me.”

“We’re fraternal, not identical. Only identical twins look exactly the same.”

He nods. “I see, I see. Well—”

Dad interrupts him. “Why are you looking for my children?” he shouts, and beside me, Ashton jumps.

The boy rolls his eyes, but answers. “Because I need them. They’re going to help me save the world.”


	3. Chapter Two - Ashton

“Do you think he’s serious?” I whisper to Rose as we head up the stairs. After the mysterious sword-boy showed up and made his declaration, Dad told us to head upstairs. He already sounded pretty angry, and I’m not one to provoke him further, so we’re heading that way.

“He sounded pretty serious,” she responds. Then, quieter, she says, “He’s taking him to the basement.”

“He’s  _ what? _ ”

“Dad probably wants to interrogate him, so he’s got to take him somewhere. It’s not like we have a dungeon.”

I don’t respond.

“Come on, let’s go to my room.”

We step onto the third floor landing, and my hand lifts from the railing. I follow Rose into her room, where I promptly take a seat at the foot of her bed. Immediately, I hear her start pulling things off her desk, placing objects on the ground, and opening drawers. Rose reorganizes her room when she needs to think. If she’s in here long enough, the whole layout might be flipped.

I sit in silence for several minutes, letting her work. I let myself to think, too, trying to come up with a logical explanation to everything that just happened. The sound of shuffling clothing and the scraping of furniture against the floor are the only things filling the room.

“So,” I say after a while, my mind relatively blank. “What do you think?”

“I have a few theories,” Rose says. “Most of which contradict each other, but we  _ have _ only had one conversation with this guy.”

“Yeah.” I sit up on her bed. “But, what about his thing about needing us? I mean, ‘We need to save the world’ is kind of a big deal. What does he need us for?”

“I get what you mean,” Rosemary says, “but I think we should be more worried about him showing up at all. Where did he come from? How did he survive the Plague? If he survived, are there others who have, too? How many? How did he know where to find us? How did he know we were  _ twins? _ We need answers.”

I shrug. “Well, I don’t know how we’re going to get any. Dad’s probably gonna lock him down there, right?”

“Yeah, but he can’t stay down there all night, can he?” Rose stands up. “Eventually, he has to go to bed. Mom won’t let him stay down there all night.  _ Then _ , when he  _ does _ go to bed, we can sneak down there and talk to him ourselves.” She claps her hands together, happy with her ingenious plan.

I nod, resigning myself to wait until then. Then a stray thought crosses through my head, and I stop. That…can’t be right. That’s crazy. But, is it—could it— No, of course not.

“Rose,” I speak, standing up. Rose is smart; she’ll have exhausted every thread of possibility. If I just ask her, she’ll confirm that she thought of it, too, but she dismissed it immediately because  _ yeah, right _ . Because it’s just not possible. And I really need to know that I’m not crazy for thinking it. 

“Yeah?” She pauses, and my worries must be written on my face, because she says, “Wait, what’s wrong?”

“What if…” I shake my head. This is crazy. This is crazy and scary and kind of rude if you think about it, but I guess there’s no turning back now. “What if there’s no Plague?”

Silence. Then she pushes her chair out from underneath her desk, and the sound of wood against wood fills the room. I hold my breath, worried about what response she’s going to give me. The question brings up an accusation I don’t think either of us are ready to handle, but I can’t keep it quiet. It’s just another query: if there’s no Plague, what does that mean about our father?

Rose finally answers. “You mean, what if Dad’s story is a lie?” Her voice is soft, and she doesn’t say it like a question.

I swallow. “Yeah.” The tension is thick enough that I feel like I could touch it if I reached out. “I’m not…crazy, am I? For thinking it?”

She exhales. “No. I’ve thought about it, too.”

Relief lets my shoulders drop. “Do you—Do you believe it?”

“I don’t believe anything yet. We need more information.” She steps closer, placing her hand on my shoulder. “We’ll go talk to him tonight. He’s the only one with answers. We can’t assume anything until we know more.” She pauses. “Try not to think about it too much, okay?”

I nod, but my throat is thick. She’s right, of course she’s right. “Yeah. Okay.” With another awkwardly placed nod, I speed out of her room.

†

It isn’t a surprise, but I don’t sleep. My mind keeps me up, as well as the apprehension from sneaking around at night. Rose and I have done stuff like this before, but I’m never ready for it. I’m always worried we’ll get caught, and sometimes, I’ve been right. I’ll never forget how angry our dad sounded when he caught us, in the dead of night, trying to go past the property line and into the woods. We made it almost a hundred feet in when our dad came running, dragging us by our ears all the way back to the house. He was furious. He sat us down and gave us a twenty-minute lecture about the dangers of the forest and why we should never  _ ever _ go farther than Rose’s clearing. Rose tried to explain that she just wanted to check out the plant life, appealing to dad’s scientific side, but he didn’t buy it. He grounded us for a week from going outside.

This situation isn’t the same, but we’ll probably be in even bigger trouble if we get caught. Talking to a potentially dangerous stranger who appeared out of nowhere? We’d be lucky if he doesn’t lock us in our rooms for the rest of our lives.

The door to my room slowly starts to creak open, and I look up as the sound of padded footsteps enters the room. “Rose?” I ask, sliding off the bed. 

“Yeah, it’s me,” she says, her voice a whisper. “Come on. Dad just went to bed.”

I join her in the hallway, and the two of us head towards the main staircase. The open room (the doors stay open even at night) is as quiet as it usually is, but there’s something about it being nighttime that makes the air feel thicker. I feel like every step I make is ringing through the halls, and any moment now, we’re going to get caught again. Rose’s breathing, although a few feet ahead of me, sounds like it’s right next to my ear. Even my hand, gripping the railing of the staircase, seems to be making enough noise to wake the house. When my bare feet hit the ground floor, the creaking of the stairs stop, and a small wave of relief washes over me. Then Rose grabs my arm, and we practically run to the basement door. I don’t know why she’s in such a hurry, but I don’t argue with her, just try to step as lightly as possible.

I’ve never been in the basement before. I’ve never really had any reason to, and from what I’ve heard from both our parents, there isn’t much to do down there, anyway. It’s another door in a house filled with them. According to Mom, there’s only barrels of different supplies, as well as the stash of vintage alcohol our great-great-something grandmother acquired however many years ago. She’s gone on and on before about how rare the bottles are and how they’ve been here since Aedon was built, but I don’t find it all that interesting. One night last year, Rose snuck down there and grabbed a bottle, and that was the first time she tried wine. It wasn’t the last.

We descend the stairs, Rose finally having let go of my arm. There’s no rails, so my hand goes to the wall. The stairs creak louder than the ones in the foreroom, probably from the lack of use. I try to step carefully, but it’s no use. Every board bends under my weight.

The first thing I notice when we stop walking is that the floor is stone. It’s cold under my feet, and I jerk back when I first touch it before stepping down again. I don’t know how large the room is, but standing where I am, it feels long, but short, like I could reach up and touch the ceiling. It’s almost claustrophobic.

“Can you see him?” I ask Rose, because she knows I can’t.

“No, but there’s a lamp here. Give me a second.” I hear the sound of flames as Rose lights a match. “There’s a room back here. Come on.” She starts walking away, and I have to strain my ears to follow her footsteps. It doesn’t take us long to reach the room, and when we do, another voice immediately pipes up.

“Well, well, well. Come to visit me, twins?” The boy shuffles in a chair, with what I assume is his hands tied behind his back. “How wonderful. I thought I’d never see you guys again!”

Rosemary sets the lamp down, then speaks. “We’re here to ask you a few questions.” She shuts the door as soon as I step through.

The boy snorts. “Did your daddy send you down here? I could tell I was kind of wearing him out. I guess he just can’t handle someone not following his orders.”

“He didn’t send us down here,” I say, louder than I intend to. He’s barely spoken any, but already, this guy is getting on my nerves. “We came on our own.”

“Ooo, rebels. I like rebels. So, what’re you gonna ask me that your dad hasn’t? Because he asked me a lot of questions.”

“What’s your name?” Rosemary says without skipping a beat.

“Seriously? Nothing original?” I can almost hear his eyes roll from here. “Whatever. Since I’m here to recruit you, I suppose I’m going to have to give you something so you can trust me. You’re lucky. I didn’t give this to your father. I don’t give it to a lot of people, actually—”

“Are you going to tell us or not?” I spit. 

There’s a beat of silence, then he deadpans, “It’s Fay. Fay Mora. And you are?”

Rose hesitates before answering. “Rosemary Lockwood. My brother is Ashton.”

Fay repeats the words in a whisper. “Odd names. Very northern. I like it. So what now? I tell you my plight and you come with me to deal with the  _ real  _ crisis that’s outside this forest?”

“What  _ is _ outside the forest?” Rose asks, completely ignoring the rest of his comment. “Our father told us that the Plague wiped out all of civilization.”

Fay’s voice suddenly fills with confusion. “Plague? What Plague?”

Dread piles in my stomach.

“The  _ Plague _ ,” Rose says again, slowly, as if she’s talking to an idiot (she might be). “An epidemic that spread through Edren, turning everyone into crazed, mindless monsters, if it didn’t kill them entirely.” Rose pauses, either letting him take it in or taking it in herself. “Dad told us he was the only survivor. He came into this forest and found the castle with our mom inside.”

Fay scoffs. “Yeah, that is one big sack of lies. Things are pretty bad, but they’re not apocalypse-bad.”

“Then what  _ is  _ out there?” I chimed in. “And why haven’t we seen it?”

“Well,  _ Ashton _ , I can’t tell you why you haven’t been outside the forest, but I can tell you why nobody will come in. Everyone thinks this place is haunted by the queen who died in here. Nobody’s wandered in here in half a century. Well, except me.” He clicks his tongue charismatically, and I resist the urge to gag. “As for what’s out there, well, it’s the Empire. I come from the province of Edren, which is the heart of the Empire, but there’s other provinces to the north and east. We’re in the north of Edren right now, just west of Elizabeth City. That’s the capital.”

“What’s west and south of Edren?” Rose asks.

“West? The sea. South? Nobody knows. No one’s been past the south range of the Allena Mountains.”

Rose hums softly. “Interesting.”

Hearing this reaction, I reach to grab her hand, and I land dead-on. “Rose, can I talk to you for a second?”

She mumbles an agreement, then opens the door. We step out, and I drop her wrist.

“What is it?” she says as the door creaks closed.

“Do you trust this guy?” I want to know what she’s thinking, because while I do have doubts about our knowledge, I’m not about to throw away everything I know because a stranger told us differently. “What if he’s lying to us?”

“Ash, he had to come from  _ somewhere _ .” When I begin to protest, she stops me. “And he seems pretty serious. I know he’s putting up a bravado front, but I can see his  _ eyes _ , Ash. I have this feeling that he’s telling us the truth.”

I want to scream. This can’t be the truth! “But think about what that means! If he’s right, then we—then Dad—” It’s crazy to think about. Sixteen years. He can’t have been doing this for sixteen years.

“Yeah. Then he lied to us. About everything.” She hesitates, sucking in air through her teeth. Her voice is quiet when she speaks again, like she’s admitting it to herself as she’s admitting it to me. There’s a tone of defeat in her words, too. “It’s not that hard to believe, though.”

My eyes widen. “ _ What? _ ”

“Think about it. He won’t let us go far into the forest; he freaks out about it. He says he’s studying something with the rolingales around the estate, but he won’t let us see his work. As soon as this guy shows up, he drags him down to the basement and ties him to a chair like he’s a prisoner. Open your ears, Ash. Whether  _ Fay’s  _ lying to us or not, our father  _ definitely _ lied, or else Fay wouldn’t even be here.”

“But—” I try to retort, but it dies on my tongue. As much as I don’t want to admit it, she’s right. Our dad has always been suspicious, but I always let it slide because, well, he’s our  _ father _ . If he lies to us, he must have a good reason. But if he’s been hiding the existence of the whole  _ world _ , it can’t be good, can it?

Rose pulls me away from my thoughts. “Don’t freak out yet,” she says. “Let’s ask him a few more questions before we make any hasty decisions, okay?”

Yeah. Good plan. “Okay.”

She opens the door again. “Alright, we’ve got a few more questions for you.”

“Delightful,” says Fay, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Rose ignores him. She huffs, “What did you mean when you said you need us to save the world?”

“Oh, that!” Fay pipes up at this. “I might’ve overexaggerated. I need your help in taking down the Empress.”

“The  _ what _ now?” I say, because he just said that like it was no big deal.

“The Empress,” he repeats. “Empress Ivory Ruebeck. She’s terrible. She didn’t earn her position; she overthrew the royal family a decade and a half ago. She claims she’s a woman of the people, but all she’s done is execute innocents and poured money straight into the nobility’s pockets.”

I scoff. “And you want us to help you  _ take her down? _ The monarch of an entire  _ empire? _ Do you have a death wish?”

“Listen,  _ pretty boy _ ,” he bites back, “I’m not  _ done _ .”

I go to counter him, but Rose puts her hand on my arm, and I relax, not realizing how tense my body was until she touched me. Fay continues:

“I’m not asking you out of nowhere. The reason I knew you were twins, the reason I knew you were even  _ out _ here in the first place, is because of a prophecy I heard a year ago. It said that the Child of Eira, the last living member of the family that ruled before Ivory, would take her down.  _ Expel _ her from the throne. It  _ also _ said that she would have allies in  _ this _ forest who were twins.” He laughs, “And here you are!”

“So…” Rose says, “do you know where this Eira is?”

Fay hesitates. “Um, no. I found you guys first. I figured it would be easier to figure out what was in the center a forest rather than try to track down a kid who may or may not even be in the province anymore.”

“So you have no proof that this Child even exists?” I raise my eyebrow at him, imploring him to rebuke me.

He huffs. “ _ No _ , but you don’t understand the situation. Ivory is the  _ worst _ ruler the Empire has ever  _ seen _ . She’s been on the throne for a decade and a half, but if she’s still around for even five more years?” He snorts. “We’ll be lucky if we don’t get raided by West Marian.”

I worry my lower lip, unsure how to answer. We can’t give him a straight yes or no, not without discussion, and it would be crazy to just leave the estate on a whim. My foot taps the floor absentmindedly. He sounds serious, dead serious, and I can hear the underlying desperation in his words, but does that mean we leave? We go with this stranger into a whole world we know nothing about, just trusting his judgement?

No, no. I shake my head. This is crazy; I can’t decide this now. My hand goes to reach out, and my fingers brush Rose’s arm. “We should go,” I say, quietly, but I’d wager that he can still hear me. “We can’t decide this now.”

Rose straightens, then mutters, “Yeah.” She clears her throat, addressing Fay again. “We’ll have to think on it. This is…a major decision.” She turns to go, then hesitates. “We’ll be back, though,” she throws over her shoulder, and then she opens the door.

Rose is already out of the room when Fay speaks up again.

“Hey.”

I stop, but I don’t turn around.

“You know you can’t trust your father, right? I don’t know much about him, but I know that he’s bad news. If he kept the existence of the  _ world _ from you, what else is he keeping secret?” He huffs. “Just...be careful.”

His voice is softer now than it was. The bravado edge is off, and the desperation is even clearer.  _ How old is he? _ I wonder. What has he seen?

I roll my shoulders, pushing the thoughts away.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, and then I step out of the room.


	4. Chapter Three - Fay

I’m no stranger to cells, but this one is just pitiful.

It’s not even a cell; it’s a storage room. I doubt this manor even has a proper dungeon, what with how the patriarch frantically had me dragged down here, into his  _ wine cellar _ , and tied to the first chair he saw. He looked like a wild animal backed into a corner, especially when he interrogated me. I can tell the guy has a lot of unhandled anger issues.

This whole predicament is very interesting, and definitely not what I expected when I wandered into the woods three days ago, looking for two twins who may or may not have existed. To help me find a Child that may or may not exist. What a wonderful world I live in.

At most, what I expected to find was maybe a tribe of northerners, living off the land and shunned from society, by their own choice or not. At the least, I expected simply endless woods, going on for days and days and miles and miles until I gave up and went home. But a whole, self-reliant estate full of people who think they’re the last civilization on the planet? Yeah, that’s a whole new level of crazy.

This Plague that the girl — Rosemary? — was talking about? It’s ridiculous. And what’s even more ridiculous is that these people believe it, after it was told to them by an old geezer with way-too-blonde hair and a permanent scowl.

But hey! At least I found the twins. Silver linings, right?

And one of them hates me. Great.

I know that look. The frustrated frown after I’ve said something sarcastic, the glare of ‘I’m going to strangle you, you filthy street rat.’ I’ve met a lot of people in my time who’ve had that same expression. I get it a lot.

Surprisingly enough, Ashton Lockwood does not frown the same way his father does.

Then again, he did do a lot of things that could be considered strange. Like how he kept grabbing his sister’s arm blindly, like he couldn’t see it. And the way he wouldn’t quite meet my eyes. Or his sisters’. Maybe he physically  _ couldn’t _ . Maybe he’s blind or something?

But then again, what  _ if _ he’s blind? How many problems is that gonna cause when I eventually drag these two back into Edren society with me? He’s gonna be  _ useless _ in the bustling streets of Elizabeth City.

Well, my life just got a whole lot harder.

I shift in this uncomfortable wooden chair, desperately wishing I had my sword with me. That’s the first thing I’m gonna grab, once I get out of here. And if I find out that any of those bastards have messed with Acton, I’ll be putting that sword to good use.

I take a gander around the room. It’s small, and I don’t know  _ why _ it exists, oddly placed in this basement full of barrels and crates. It’s really only big enough to fit five people, and there’s a crate standing upright in the corner, taking up at least a fifth of that space. The lamp Rosemary brought in is on top of it, still burning (I should thank her for the light). My chair is pushed right up against the back wall, which is made of stone. It’s cold, despite the summer weather outside, but that’s probably because it’s underground, away from the sun (which is blindingly bright, despite the canopy the forest trees provide). The ceiling is decently high, high enough that I won’t hit my head, and the door doesn’t seem to have a lock on it. If I could just get out of this chair, I’d be home free.

All I have to do is get out of this chair.

I groan, audibly, considering no one can hear me. Getting out of here: what a mess. Despite the chair being wooden, and the ropes being nothing special, they’re both pretty strong. I’ve already tried breaking the chair with the force of throwing it against the wall (it’s worked before!), but that didn’t make a dent in it. It might have to do with the type of wood, which I’ve never seen before, or the sheer smallness of the room. And those stablehands who brought me down here must know their knots, because the way these ropes are tied is completely unfamiliar. And I’m not in a position where I can reach my knife. Just my luck.

I sit back and huff, resigning myself to stay there until I can come up with a better idea or until the twins return with their minds changed. And I know they will. There’s no way they won’t, eventually, not after all the revelations I gave them. Rosemary already seemed to be considering the offer — she seems like one who thinks a lot — and Ashton definitely hesitated before he left. He’s not as stubborn as he appears, it seems.

I squint at the ceiling. Twins. What an interesting concept. Not just siblings, but tied to each other in every possible way. Birthday, childhoods, age, development; it’s all the same. Except these two are clearly different, not two copies of the same being. Nature versus nurture, I guess. And they  _ are _ their own people. Nothing’s saying they have to be the same.

The differences are interesting, though. Rosemary spoke with authority, and kept her emotions in check. She also held her brother back when he got worked up. So far, though, what’s most intriguing about her has been her  _ purple hair _ . At first I thought she had really dark hair and the light was acting weird, but no. It’s straight-up purple. Purple the color of freaking  _ grapes _ . My first conclusion was that it was natural, but then I scolded myself, because that is a load of hogwash. No one’s hair is purple,  _ that _ purple, naturally. Thus, it must be dyed, which makes me wonder if her natural hair color is as pale as her albino brother.

Ashton, unlike his sister, is more obvious and transparent when it comes to just about everything. Though, seriously, he’s as white as paper. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a white person who is actually  _ that _ white. He’s also, very clearly, more concerned about the fact that there  _ are _ lies instead of which things I and his father said were lies and which weren't. Everything I said, of course, was the truth. I’m not about to sugarcoat my mission or deceive my potential partners. I need them to trust me.

This forest, Exehail Forest, is abandoned by society because of some persistent rumor about ghosts and a queen who disappeared (presumably died) in here however long ago. I had to dig deep into that story in order to figure  _ where in Edren _ I was going to find two seemingly random twins.

“‘Her twins allies found in the heart of the heart of the Ruby Crown…’” I murmur to myself. The Ruby Crown, meaning Exehail, the blood-crazy queen who declared war on the Empire, lost, and wandered into the woods screaming curses about coming back to haunt the land. She was nicknamed ‘the Ruby Crown’ because of her body count, and she was no joke. It’s no wonder everyone’s too scared to step foot in this forest when she was even thought to have been blessed by one of the gods.

And yet, I decided to ignore all the warnings and speculation and strolled straight into the place, because there was no way I was going to let a ghost story stop me from finding a way to dispatch my personal life-ruiner. So far, the worst thing that had happened to me was getting temporarily apprehended and locked up, so I’d say the warnings were useless. Then again, there’s no way anyone would’ve known that there was a whole self-sustaining estate in the middle of these endless trees.

Go figure, am I right?

The light in the lamp begins to die, and I watch it as it snuffs out, leaving me in complete darkness. I close my eyes, and nothing changes, so I just resign myself to the darkness and let my eyelids rest. Eventually, either hours or minutes later, the stillness takes over, and I fall asleep.

Nothing special.


	5. Chapter Four - Rosemary

The grass blades around my feet flitter in the wind as I stand in position. Several yards ahead, Ash stands with his back to me, bow in one hand and arrows in the other. I take the apple in my hand and balance it on my head, making sure it doesn't fall off when I open my mouth.

“If you miss and hit me, I’ll kill you, you know that, right?” I say, laughing. We’ve done this a thousand times before, ever since Ash was ten and experienced enough with a bow that I wouldn’t be in danger. It’s just fun to tease.

“Shut up,” he calls, and then he’s nocking the arrow. The wind whistles in the silence. “Okay. Now move.”

I take two and a half steps diagonally backward, adjusting the apple accordingly. Then I wait, silently, as Ash focuses. The only sound is the wind, but only for a few seconds, and it’s broken when Ash whips around and fires his arrow.

The tip of it comes sailing towards me, but clearly high enough that it won’t hit my face. After a split-second, I feel the weight of the apple fly off my head. There’s a thunk, and I turn around, seeing the apple has been skewered into a tree behind me.

I grin. “Perfect hit, brother of mine,” I call.

He races across the grass to me, his smile wide. “Yeah?” he says, tapping his fingers along the edge of his bow. A nervous habit of his.

“Don’t act so surprised. You haven’t missed a shot since you were eight.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“Really! I couldn’t do that, even _with_ sight.” I bump his shoulder with mine. “What did you say it was? The whole ‘see without seeing’ thing?”

“Well, I don’t _know_ what it is, exactly. And I can’t _see_ , it’s more than I can _sense_ my surroundings if I concentrate. You know, if I close my eyes I can _hear_ the fly buzzing around the apple in the tree.”

I whip around, and sure enough, there’s a fly moving around the skewered fruit, as if it’s scared to land.

“It’s always there, as well. It doesn’t leave; it just ebbs and flows with my concentration.” He gives me a look. “Haven’t I explained this all to you before?”

“Yeah, I just forgot.” And I’ll probably ask him about it again at some point, especially considering I still can’t quite wrap my head around it. You can never truly understand someone’s experiences, no matter how many times they might explain it. “It’s such an interesting concept.”

“I guess.” _Tap, tap-tap-tap_ go his fingers. “I don’t know why I have it, though. No one else here can do it, and it’s not a blind thing, it feels more…magical than that.”

Which our father refuses to concede to. He’s been trying to find a scientific solution to this ever since we figured out Ash had his weird not-sight. I say, let the gift from the gods be the gift from the gods, and don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

“You know, if you meditated with me,” I say to Ash, “you could probably extend that ability of yours even further.” He doesn’t say anything to that, so I continue. “Also, you need to move past apples. You’ve been doing that for years. You need some _real_ targets.”

He sighs. “I tried. Dad won’t let me. He stopped me from going out to hunt a while back. I tried to tell him I could handle it, but he wouldn’t listen.”

The news makes me bristle. “Wait, when did this happen?”

“Do you remember when I had my bow taken away?”

“Yeah, I—” I blink. “Hold on, that was three months ago. He—wait, he took away your bow for trying to go _hunting?_ ”

Ash fidgets, swallowing thickly. “Yeah, and I was going to stay _in_ the area and everything, just going after local game, but he just—he just wouldn’t _let_ me, and when I tried to explain it to him he took away my bow, and I…” He trails off, shaking his shoulders, and he looks really wound up.

“Hey,” I say, putting a hand on his shoulder, “are you okay?”

He snaps his head up, moving back. “Yeah, I just…” He stops again. “I’m gonna go put my bow up.” He turns away, starting to head back across the grass, and I don’t stop him. I watch him until he disappears over the hill, then turn around, huffing.

Sometimes I really hate our father. I don’t know why he treats Ashton the way he does. I mean, we already know he’s a liar, but I’ve tried not to think about it too much since we found out a few days ago. And that doesn’t give a reason for constantly hindering and punishing Ash for no reason. He doesn’t do that stuff to me. And why did he tell me _I_ would be the one to take over the manor?

I haven’t told Ash about the inheritance conversation yet. We already have a lot going on.

We haven’t gone back to see Fay again, but I want to. I haven’t made a decision on his offer yet, but I want to ask him more questions about the outside world. Is it like in the books? How many people are out there? How big is the capital? How big is everything else? What are the people like? How does the economy work with that big of a territory? I don’t want to go down there without Ash, though, so I’ll wait until we speak about it again.

I decide to head back to the house, and when I get there, I see Arabella making her way through the main hall towards one of the corridors on the first floor. I run after her, shouting, “Arabella!”

She slows, and I come to walk beside her. She smiles at me, and her dark cheeks crinkle with dimples. She tilts her chin down to look at me. She’s taller than me, along with most of the other women. She’s pretty slender for her height, but she’s strong enough to lift several sacks of flour over her shoulders without breaking a sweat.

“Rosemary,” Arabella says, “how are things? Anything new happen? Read any new books?”

I give her a look. I’ve read all of the books in our library at least twice, if not more. “Well, you know, it’s mostly the normal stuff. Although, I have this problem—” I’m not going to tell her about Fay; our father made us and the stablehands swear to keep it quiet, and I agree that it will only cause panic, “—it’s only hypothetical, and it’s also fictional. I was thinking of writing a little short story, something epic, and I wanted your opinion on something.”

She nods. “Go ahead.”

“Well. If you yourself had the chance to save the world — think not our world — because someone came to you and said that you were included in a prophecy they heard, would you leave your home and everything else behind and go with them?”

Arabella thinks for a moment. “Well, I guess it would depend on the threat to the world. If it’s _that_ serious, and people need me, then I’d go.” She eyes me. “That’s a very specific hypothetical.”

I shrug. “It’s a very specific story.” I turn to run the other direction. “By the way, do you know what’s for dinner tonight?”

Arabella grins. “Haven’t decided yet.”

“Fair enough.” I rush out into the main hall, leaving Arabella behind.

†

It’s several hours later when I see Ashton again. Outside, the sun is starting to make the sky turn orange, and the daytime activities are settling down. I knock on the door to his room, and when I hear a soft “Come in,” I open it.

Ash is sitting on his bed, a lute in his lap. He’s softly plucking at the strings, filling the room with a gentle melody. I step towards him, a smile on my face.

“I didn’t know you could play the lute,” I say.

He immediately stops, looking sheepish. “It’s just a hobby. I mean, when we get stuck inside, I can’t shoot, so I thought...why not do something else?” He drums his fingers across the neck. It’s a beautiful instrument: darker on the back, lighter on the front, and with fifteen shimmering strings. “I don’t really want anyone to know. I found it in one of the empty rooms, and I started to teach myself. I’m—I’m not that good, but Noland caught me playing it and taught me how to tune the strings and stuff.”

Noland is the cobbler in the village. He also functions as our minstrel, as his family has passed down the tradition of luthiering, and it’s very rare that someone needs their shoes prepared. He’s made all his own instruments, and he knows how to play them all. He usually has a monthly performance with his children, who he’s taught to play some of the instruments.

“Why don’t you want anyone to know?” I ask. “You could join Noland when he performs.”

Ash shrugs. “I don’t think Dad would approve.”

I go silent. He’s probably right.

Sighing, I sit down beside him. He lowers the lute, placing it against the bed. “Did you need something?” he asks, turning his head towards me.

“Well,” I start, “I was thinking we should talk about…everything.”

Ashton’s shoulders tense. “Okay. Where do you want to start?”

I think for a moment. “Have you given any thought to his offer?”

Ash hesitates. “I…don’t know,” he says finally. “I don’t know if I can leave everything behind. And what are _we_ going to do against an empress? We might be in some prophecy or something, but really, what are the two of us going to add? I’d think you’d need an entire _army_ to take down an empress.” He sighs. Then he lifts his head up to me. “What are you thinking?”

Sitting up straight, I tell him, “I think I can leave.” I’ve given this some thought. “I think he’s telling the truth, and I think that if he _really_ needs us _that_ much, we have to go. I mean, if we’re included in this prophecy, it’s kind of our duty, right?”

He shrugs. “I suppose.” Then he goes to say something else, but stops.

“What?” I ask. “What is it?”

“I…was thinking.” Ash taps his fingers on his knee. “It’s something Fay said. About our dad. Right before we left, he told me, if Dad was keeping the existence of the rest of the _world_ from us, what else is he hiding?” He lifts his head. “Do you think he’s lying about anything else? Anything that _big?_ ”

I pause to consider his question. It’s definitely a possibility, but how much of a possibility? What else _could_ he be hiding? Where is he currently hiding his links to the outside world, if he even has any? I mentally go through spots in the house where he could possibly conceal that kind of information, then it hits me.

I grab Ashton’s wrist suddenly, and he jumps. “I know what to do,” I say.

“Okay,” he responds, blinking. “What?”

“We look in his office. If he has any evidence of…the outside world, they’ll be in there. We just have to find them.”

“How do we get him to stay out of his office for that long, though?”

I snap my fingers, trying to come up with something. “Uh…we’ll go at night! When he goes to bed. Just like the basement. If we head down there as soon as he’s asleep, we’ll have almost the whole night to search.”

“And what if he finds us? What are we going to tell him?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. This is worth it, to get answers.” I believe it. There might even be some semblance of an excuse as to why our father lied to us. Despite [his lies], I know him. He’s a logic-centered man, and a scientist. Even if he’s wrong, he’ll have a reason as to all of this, and I want to know what it is.

†

I wait outside my parents’ room that night until I hear snores (my dad snores, my mother does not). Then I go get Ashton, and we start creeping through the house for the second time that week. It’s not nearly as long a walk as the one to the basement, but it’s more of a risk, as Dad’s room is on the third floor, along with his office.

When we get to the door, I turn the handle slowly, then push it open, inch by inch. I only open it wide enough for us to fit inside, then close it again, just as carefully as before.

“Okay, now what?” Ash says once we’re inside.

“Look for anything suspicious, I guess,” I tell him. I bite my lip. He can’t exactly look at documents, so he needs to do something else. “I’ll start reading through his papers. I guess you can see if there’s any secret compartments or safes anywhere?”

Ashton snorts. “Secret compartments? Really?”

“You never know. He’s a pretty private guy. And if he’s keeping secrets, a secret safe is a pretty good place to put them.”

He sighs. “Okay.”

I head to the desk, beginning with the papers stacked on top of it. They’re nothing special; mostly just status reports for the estate. There’s a few filed complaints, but nothing major. I dig through his drawers, but all I find in there is more estate business files. They’re all boring: crop and cattle numbers, the population registry, medical histories, et cetera. I’m starting to check the drawers for false bottoms when Ashton speaks up.

“Um, Rosemary.”

“Yeah?” I whisper.

“There’s a trapdoor under this rug.”

I stand up immediately. “ _What?_ ” I rush over to where he’s kneeling on the ground. The rug that covers most of the floor in front of the desk has been flipped over. Sure enough, there’s a trapdoor in the floor, flat enough that it doesn’t make the rug lift when it’s overtop it.

My eyes widen when I see it. “Oh my gods.” I know I said to look for these kinds of things, but I didn’t actually expect to find something this big. “We have to go down it.” I kneel beside Ash, placing my hand on the latch. It takes some effort to get it open, but once it is, I look inside.

“There’s a ladder down there. It doesn’t go very far, I think maybe part of the floor is hollowed out.” I look up at Ash. “I’ll go first. You can come down after me.”

I place my foot on the ladder and start to lower myself down. It’s not that tall, just enough that you would need a ladder to get down. “Okay, you can come down,” I whisper-shout to Ash. He comes down a few seconds later, albeit a bit slower than my descent.

I look around. There’s a tunnel to my left that looks like it heads to where the wall of the office is. I grab Ash, then start that way. The walk is only a few feet, but we have to duck our heads to not hit the ceiling. Then the tunnel turns into a staircase that I’m sure is centered in between the walls. It’s cramped, and there’s little to no light, so it’s hard to see, but I manage to not trip as I take the first step.

“Stairs,” I say to Ash.

As we walk, my mind spirals. How often has our father come down here? What is he hiding down here? There’s a sickening feeling in my gut from all of this, but I also feel a rush of adrenaline. I don’t think something this exciting has ever happened in my lifetime.

The stairs seem to go on forever. Eventually, the walls turn to stone, and I realize we’re underneath the house. We head down what I think is another flight before we hit the bottom. I reach forward in the dark, feeling for anything in front of me, and I find a door and a small table beside it. On the table is a candle and some matches, so I light the candle to let myself see. When light fills the tiny space, I exhale.

“What?” Ashton asks.

“Nothing. I lit a candle, so I can finally see.”

“Oh, good for you.”

I roll my eyes, then turn to the door. It’s plain and wooden, and when I turn the handle, it doesn’t appear to be locked. I open the door, and we step inside a new room.

My eyes don’t know where to look. It’s huge, the length and width of Aedon’s main hall and at least half the height, and it’s filled with so many things. Torch scones line the walls, allowing for light. There’s shelves full of books, vials, journals, and other tools. There’s a large table with a huge alchemy setup, with several different flasks, some filled with different colored liquids. There’s a string of barrels lined up to one side of the room, and one glance inside shows that there’s hundreds of flower blossoms tucked inside. I instantly recognize what they are: rolingales, the flowers that grow all over the estate.

“It’s a huge lab,” I say out loud.

“Is _this_ where he’s been doing all his research?” Ash asks. “How did we not know this existed?”

“I don’t know.” I’m still looking around, taking it all in. “This is insane.” My eyes turn, and I catch a glimpse of a board on the far side of the room. I walk over to it. It’s a corkboard tacked to the brim with papers and notes. I start reading some of them off out loud, so Ash can hear.

“‘Rolingale study,’ ‘numerous uses,’ ‘makes a fine tea,’ ‘memory-altering qualities…’” What? I look closer, reading more. There’s a different sheet, and my mother’s name immediately catches my eye. “‘Syerena Experiment: more potent the dose, more potent the memory loss.’” It has a list of dates and increasing doses of rolingale nectar. “‘Subject shows signs of memory loss from both present day and previous years.’ Oh my gods.”

Ash is standing beside me now, listening to me speak. “Is he...poisoning Mom?”

I don’t respond. There’s a table standing a few feet in front of the board. On it are two different leather-bound journals: one clearly old, and one slightly newer. I open the older one to one of the first pages, seeing the details of a random experiment. The subject is a rat, and the experiment involves injecting a nectar serum into the animal. I fight the urge to retch as it details the rat’s decreasing health, forgetfulness, and then eventual death.

I swallow, but the lump in my throat won’t go away. “He’s poisoning Mom.” This is worse than I ever could’ve thought. I put down the journal in my hands and pick up the second one. I open it up, and the first page greets me with a sealed envelope. Strangely enough, it’s addressed to me. I look over at Ashton — who looks lost in his thoughts —, hesitate, then slide the envelope into my pocket.

Then I turn my attention back to the page, which is titled “ _Plan for Leave_ .” It’s a detailed list of instructions for our dad to, from what I can tell, leave the estate and head back out into the real world with his research. The lump in my throat grows as I read about how he plans to wipe the village’s memories with his serum, give my mother a lethal dose, and leave me a note telling me about the outside world and where to find him. I flip the page to read more, the envelope feeling heavy in my pocket, and my stomach drops when I read “ _Plans for Ashton._ ”

There’s a few crossed out ideas, but the important part is that at the bottom of the page there are a few words circled in ink: “ _Lethal injection during sleep_.”

“Ashton,” I say, the words heavy in my throat. “I need to tell you something.”

“What?” Ash says, coming over to me. “What is it?”

“Ash, I—” I don’t know how to tell him this. “Dad, he has a plan to leave the forest and go back into the real world. But, he wants to kill Mom and wipe the town’s memories before leaving, and he—” I take a deep breath, “he wants to kill you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here ends the preview of Winter Raven. I might post more chapters here in the future, but it depends. Now to actually finish writing the book! Hopefully you'll able to buy a copy sometime in the near future. Hope you enjoyed!


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